Oh You Pretty Things
by Juliet'sEmoPhase
Summary: Draco and Harry have a drunken heart to heart listening to David Bowie. Eighth Year, non-epilogue compliant. No smut, just feels.


Author's Note 11-01-16: I got sad about David Bowie, so I decided to write something nice for the boys instead. Also, I reached 1,800 followers on Tumblr (thank you foxmasters!) so that's another nice thing :)

Have a little Eighth Year drunken Drarry listening to records and being cute 3 xxx

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Oh You Pretty Things

Draco stumbled as he descended into the Eighth Year common room, trying to keep his footing and not lose the bottle that hung precariously from his fingertips. He squinted through the darkness. Good. No one was still up.

It was easier that way. He kept his head down, he studied hard, and he gave people the space they needed to glare at him and the dirty tattoo he sported on his left arm. It didn't make things easy. He didn't expect anyone outside Pansy or Blaise to tolerate him or even be civil. That was their right, and he wasn't going to stop them.

It didn't mean he had to hang around for it though.

He liked slipping off to the Hog's Head by himself and drowning his sorrows. He could drink and smoke as much as he liked with no one to tell him off, and for a while he could just…forget. He couldn't change the past, but he could deal with the present and damn well make a better job of the future, of that he was certain.

He made his way into the circular room that all the returning students shared, regardless of house. It was uncouth, Draco felt, that they had been made some sort of example of to show how important unity was in their new, post-war world. Like they could just sweep all those years under the carpet? He would have been much happier to keep skulking around the Slytherin dungeons, but sadly, that had not been an option.

He huffed and rubbed his eyes, hoping Blaise would be asleep when he got to their room, otherwise he'd get an earful about not inviting him down the pub. He really should have been watching where he was going though, because despite knowing his path through the smattering of squishy chairs, sofas and coffee tables, he still managed to trip on something and go sprawling to the ground.

" _Omph!"_ he gasped as he smashed into the carpet and dropped his near-empty beer bottle, but he was distracted almost immediately as the room suddenly came alive with light, sound and movement. Specifically, the movement of Harry Potter sitting bolt upright with Draco over his legs, and the sound of a gramophone playing quite loudly under a soft orange glow.

"Malfoy!" Potter cried in shock as Draco scrambled up, blinking stupidly at Potter sitting next to him. He'd obviously performed a silencing charm to keep the music in his own little bubble, and some sort of deflector so no one else would be able to see the light.

"Sorry," Draco breathed apologetically, and he meant it. It was hard to still be mad with him after everything he'd done for Draco, and the wizarding world at large. Plus, he just didn't feel that old animosity he had when they were younger. He was too tired for all of that nowadays. "I didn't see you…which, I guess was sort of the point, wasn't it?"

Potter – or _Harry_ as he was trying to train himself into thinking – broke into a happy smile and shifted so they were sitting opposite each other, legs de-tangled. "Nah, it's alright," he said. "I didn't want to disturb anyone, but I don't mind some company."

 _Even from me?_ Draco wanted to ask, but he didn't. It was a long time since anyone had made him feel welcome, so he wasn't going to pass that up.

"You're up late?" he said instead, and Harry bobbed his head in agreement, taking a swig from something amber in a solid glass tumbler that Draco thought looked interesting.

"So are you – were you out having fun?" he asked with a flick of an eyebrow. Draco was a little taken aback; it was almost like Harry was _flirting?_

"Trying to," Draco said wryly. "You haven't got any more of that?" he asked, flicking the glass with a fingernail and making it ping. Harry just gave him a delighted look, and fished out a bottle from under one of the nearby armchairs as Draco happily conjured himself up another glass. "What are you listening to?"

The track changed and Draco couldn't say he'd heard either song before, but he liked them both.

Harry smiled and they chinked glasses. "David Bowie," he said, nodding. "I found a stack of vinyls in my Godfather's house when I moved in – turns out he had quite a thing for Muggle music."

He rolled over and exposed a delightful strip of skin between his jeans and his t-shirt. Merlin, Draco must have been drunk if he was allowing himself to stare openly at such a meagre glimpse, even going to far as to wondering what it might taste like. He sighed, but luckily, Harry was already turning back around, several records in his hand.

"I think I've fallen in love," he announced, spreading the LPs out in front of them. "Bowie gave zero fucks what anyone thought about him. He just did what he wanted, and he was brilliant."

Draco couldn't help but smile at Harry as he picked up his drink again and leaned against the armchair, looking quite pleased with himself, like he dared Draco to disagree with him. But to Draco, that sounded pretty great.

His attention was caught almost immediately by one of the albums entitled _'Aladdin Sane',_ and Draco picked it up to show Harry. "Has he got a bolt of _lightning_ on his face?" he asked incredulously, and Harry just grinned further.

"We're kindred spirits," he said with a wink.

"Here's to giving zero fucks," Draco laughed back, and with another clink of their glasses they drank to that.

Harry watched him as he licked the whisky off his lips. "How's that going for you, anyway?" he asked, and Draco shrugged.

"I've got no excuse for the way I behaved," he said, emboldened by the continuing alcohol. "I was awful. But I don't want to be that person anymore, I can't. And I can't let people try and keep me that way either, so yeah. To a certain extent, the only way forward is not to care."

Harry swirled his drink, nodding thoughtfully. "But you do care?" he guessed, and Draco bought himself a minute by sipping slowing at his own drink.

"Yeah," he said eventually, barely audible over the music. "I care that I hurt people. But…I don't expect to be forgiven."

Again, Harry thought before he spoke, and the track changed again. "Ahh," he said, his eyes fluttering closed as the guitar and drums of the new song kicked in. "Perfect."

"What?" Draco asked.

Harry opened his eyes again, and smiled fondly. "This one is called _Heroes_. It's one of my favourites. _We could be heroes,"_ he murmured along dreamily. _"Forever and ever."_ He swayed along with a beat for a moment or two, then turned back to Draco. "I think I might. I mean, I do. Or at least, I will do." He frowned, unsure of his tenses apparently.

"Do what?" Draco chuckled. Being drunk with Harry was pretty relaxing, he had to admit.

Harry surprised him be reaching out, and taking his hand. "Forgive you," he said.

Draco was so startled he just looked at the other boy for a moment, before snatching back his hand. "I don't deserve that," he muttered, swallowing thickly. He didn't look up, but after a moment, Harry scooted carefully closer, and nudged their shoulders together.

"I'm not sure I do _yet,"_ he said placatingly. "But, I think I might, given time. Life's too short to hold onto old grudges."

Draco bit his lip and let Harry's words sink in. "It shouldn't be that easy?" he said, knowing he was right, but Harry laughed and nudged him again.

"No, it's not, it isn't," he said. "I'm just _thinking_ about it," he grinned. "But, it turns out, you're quite alright to be around when you're not being a dick to everyone. And it doesn't hurt that you're _very_ easy on the eyes."

Draco turned his head sharply and blinked at Harry. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh don't be offended," Harry slurred slightly. "You don't have to tell anyone I think you're pretty, but I do." He reached out and touched his fingertips to Draco's hair. "Wow," he whispered. "So soft."

Draco's heart was thumping urgently in his chest and he was wondering just how drunk he was, whether or not he could possibly be misinterpreting Harry in any way. "You…think I'm pretty?" he repeated.

Harry smiled at him, his brilliant green eyes blazing. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry if that's weird, I'll probably massively regret this in the morning, but yeah. You're boy-pretty, handsome maybe?" He frowned, thinking of the right word.

"Harry," Draco said slowly, not really believing his ears. "Do you…like boys?"

He thought that was quite a huge thing to ask – he certainly would have been flustered if anyone had thought to ask him that – but Harry just shrugged and played with the rim of his glass. "Dunno," he said casually. "I think I like you though?" Draco let the moment hang, frightened to say anything that might break the spell. Harry sighed though. "Sorry, I'm probably freaking you out."

Draco shook his head hurriedly, before he lost his nerve. "No, I uh…Harry, I sort of…like you too." Wow. That was awkward.

But Harry tilted his head and regarded him intently. "Really?" he breathed. Draco nodded, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake. Harry chewed that over, before carefully placing his glass down on the carpet. "In that case…would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Draco didn't trust himself to speak. Instead, he nodded slowly, and gradually, inch by inch, him and Harry leaned closer together.

He felt the soft puff of his sweet whisky breath just before their lips met, and Draco couldn't help the faint moan that thrummed against his throat. It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone, but no one before had really mattered to him. Harry mattered to him.

They melted together, mouths moving tentatively as tongues slipped out and met, and Draco found his hands trailing up Harry's arms, cupping his shoulder and the side of his face. In turn, Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair, groaning into his mouth as he did.

Draco wasn't sure how long they sat on the common room floor, entwined together, with David Bowie keeping them company as he sang of Starmen, Rebels and China Girls, but he realised he didn't care. He cared about too many other things, one of which was what the great Harry Potter thought of him. But now, after so many years, he felt like finally he maybe knew the truth.

And it was wonderful.

End


End file.
